


In Vino Veritas

by Tarlan



Category: Tombstone (1993)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More was exchanged in the saloon than word and gun play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Vino Veritas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **smallfandomfest** Fest09 and **mmom** 2011 Day 28

Doc could feel the tension in the saloon ratchet up another notch as he began to spar verbally with Ringo, especially as few among them would understand the Latin phrases. Sheriff White, at least, recognized the competitive nature of the sparring, bringing it to a halt all too soon.

"Evidently, Mr. Ringo's an educated man. Now I really hate him," Doc stated, but without malice.

Ringo's response was to draw his gun and point it at Doc, but Doc had long since lost any fear of death. He was already dying, eaten up from the inside by the Gambler's Curse, which left him struggling for breath when the air inside the saloon became too heavy with smoke from cheroots. He half-smiled as his rival twisted and spun his gun, displaying a swiftness and dexterity that made Doc wonder what else those clever fingers were capable of doing. If souls were on the line then Ringo was certainly a match made in heaven--or hell.

When he finally holstered the gun, looking smug, Doc could not resist the temptation to impress the other man equally, picking up the small tin cup and mimicking Ringo's gun movements exactly, proving that he had both the dexterity and the memory to match that skillful display. He could see the twitch of lips beneath the mustache, could see the twinkle in those green eyes at Doc's unusual acceptance and execution of that challenge. Doc doubted that anyone would see beyond the rivalry to the true intent of the performance; to the sexual foreplay between them that gave a different challenge that Doc was tempted to meet.

He watched as Ringo left the saloon but he knew it wasn't over between them, that they had both set a time and place for more than death.

As soon as he as able, Doc left the saloon and headed to the room he had taken, delicately coughing away the smoke that aggravated his lungs and ignoring the blood that stained the handkerchief. Kate would leave him alone until he sent for her, which suited Doc fine as he hoped to be otherwise engaged within the next hour. He untied his cravat and stripped off his vest, folding them both carefully before sitting on the small chaise to lean over and remove his boots. He left them standing side-by-side in readiness, aware that the few seconds it took to locate items of clothing could take him to an even earlier grave.

Doc leaned back on the chaise and waited, unsurprised when the door opened without invitation a few minutes later. Ringo slipped into the room unannounced, closing the door behind him and leaning back on it. He smiled enigmatically again, gaging Doc's response to his intrusion, but they both knew that Doc had made a silent offer for a moment of companionship that would not be acceptable in polite or religious company. Still, to ensure they were both reading each other correctly, Doc slowly peeled off his linen shirt and carefully laid it aside, revealing his objection to the nasty pink undergarments that most men wore as a matter of propriety.

Ringo's smile widened in appreciation and in response he took off his hat and laid it on the cabinet placed beside the door. From there they undressed slowly, not quite matching article for article but with knowing intent of being naked with each other. Doc heard the breath catch in Ringo's throat as he rose from the chaise, naked, and walked across the room to the large bed with its luxurious feather mattress and fine cotton linen. Despite the disease that ravaged his lungs, he knew he still looked good to the eye. When he reached the bed he turned and let Ringo drink his fill before lying down, propped up on fat pillows, with his hand drawn instantly to the already interested curve of his cock. The intensity in Ringo's green eyes increased as he removed the last of his clothing to stand naked before Doc, and Doc watched the sliver of a tongue swipe over parted lips, yet still Ringo hesitated.

Doc wrapped his fingers more tightly around himself, stroking firmly, his heart beating faster at the handsome sight before him.

"Fortes fortuna iuvat." _Fortune favors the brave_

His words broke whatever thoughts or concerns filled Ringo's mind for he grinned openly and moved forward until he was kneeling upon the bed, looking down at Doc's busy hand.

"De fumo in flammam." _Out of the smoke into the flame_

Ringo murmured softly and wetted a finger before reaching out to brush the tip over one of Doc's nipples, seeming to enjoy the way it made the breath catch in Doc's throat. Doc reached for him with his other hand, caressing the warm skin from shoulder to wrist before taking the hand and pressing it against his hard shaft. Doc moaned in appreciation as Ringo stroked him firmly with a knowing, practiced hand, no stranger to the loving of men. He gasped anew when Ringo leaned over and lapped at the head; his tongue sliding into the slit and rubbing over the sensitive tip. He let his head fall back upon the pillow as Ringo's hot mouth engulfed him, rocking his hips slowly as the sweetest sensations warmed through his body. It took all his strength to push Ringo away when he came too close to the edge, and Ringo looked at him in agitation.

"I desire..."

Doc felt the words dry up in his throat. He was slowly dying, and he knew the opportunities for finding release with another man might not come again. The thought of slipping from this life without one last burn of possession seemed abhorrent, and yet it seemed too much to ask of any man, even one who appreciated the hard muscle of another male perhaps more than the softer curves of a woman. Ringo relaxed, his expression smoothing in understanding as he reached for the hand lotion kept in a pot beside the bed and dipped in two fingers. Doc rolled over to give Ringo full access to his body, and sighed as he felt the first touch of blunt, greasy fingers pushing inside. Several years had passed since the last time he allowed such an indulgence, since he gave such trust to another, and he pressed back against the fingers, demanding more. When he was ready, Ringo made him wait for an interminably long time that was, in reality, but a few seconds, before pushing inside his greased cock. The bulk of hard flesh stretched him wide, muscle burning with perfection and he bit back on a cry as the pleasure spiked with each firm thrust. He whimpered in frustration when he found the mattress too soft beneath him, alternately trying to press down harder and yet back onto Ringo too. He snarled when Ringo pulled out, his half-turn on the bed to take umbrage easing the flip of his body onto his back before Ringo forced back his legs at the knees and pushed back inside. In all the times he had allowed himself this illicit pleasure, not once before had he faced his impaler. The shock of it made him feel more alive than he had in so many months, and he took himself in hand to match the powerful thrusts, finding his release only moments before Ringo tensed and cried out softly above him.

Afterwards, as they lay side by side on the bed--replete--Doc felt the uncontrollable urge to cough and though he kept the cough light, he could taste the blood on his lips. Ringo rose up on one elbow and looked closely at him but Doc found no pity in his eyes, only a momentary lifting of the emptiness that he had seen in the saloon. Only then did he realize that both of them were dying inside---one from disease and the other from a sickness that had leached deep into his soul. Together they had found a momentary respite but the world beyond the hotel door was already beckoning towards them. Yet he knew that neither of them would go down without a fight, that they would both push onwards, taking chances and courting death in the hope that they would find what they sought before they were forced to put the gun to their own head.

Perhaps the true competition between them was who would find that final release from the burden of life first.

Doc closed his eyes as he felt a benediction kiss upon his cheeks, eyelids and then pressed against his lips. Another first, for he had never before allowed the kiss of a man upon his lips. He understood its meaning, that they would part company, back to a world where they stood on opposite sides of a range war. He understood that they might face each other across a dusty street, or call each other out in some quiet location, where one would give that final peace to the other.

Ringo slipped out of the door, leaving Doc alone on the large bed with Ringo's seed still leaking from his body and the burn reminding him of the pain and pleasure that still thrummed through his sick body. He drew the soft sheet over himself, not eager to remove the scent and wetness that might be his last pleasure with another man, and he thought of the day that would come all too soon.

When they met again face to face with a gun in their hand, Doc secretly hoped that he would be the one to fall.

END

-

I noticed that the prompt is a line from a song. Here are some of the lyrics:

 _The devil went down to Georgia_  
He was looking for a soul to steal  
And he was in a bind  
'Cause he was way behind  
And was willin' to make a deal.

 _When he came upon this young man_  
playing a fiddle and playin' it hot.  
The devil jumped up on a hickory  
stump and said,  
"Boy let me tell you what:

 _I bet you didn't know it_  
but I'm a fiddle player too,  
And if you care to take a dare  
I'll make a bet with you  
Now you play a pretty good fiddle boy  
But give the devil his due  
I'll bet a fiddle of gold against your soul  
'Cause I think I'm better than you."


End file.
